desperately he wanted Tilden, he couldn't let it cloud his sense of
right and wrong. He mustn't be the cause of an innocent girl's death.
He let the sword drop from his hands. In the silence, it clattered to the
floor. One of the soldiers kicked it away, to insure that Rory couldn't
retrieve it.
"Now kill the Blackhearted O'Neil," someone shouted, and the blades
of a dozen swords began slicing his flesh. A sword tip pierced his
shoulder, branding him with searing fire. Another sword thrust
through his arm, rendering the limb useless.
With blood streaming from a dozen wounds, Rory staggered, then
dropped to his knees. But before the fatal plunge could be made,
Tilden's voice broke through the shouting.
"Nay. Hold. I want this man kept alive."
"Why?" one of the soldiers demanded.
"Just do as I say. Bind him and put him on a horse." Tilden shoved the
wench ahead of him toward a small back room. "I have some
unfinished business here." At the shouts and laughter that followed,
he favored the others with an evil grin. "But it shouldn't take long.
These peasant lasses are little better than bloodless corpses. When
I've finished with her, we ride to Dublin. There is a ship leaving for
London on the morrow. And I intend to be on it. With the
Blackhearted O'Neil in chains." He swaggered from the room,
already savoring his homecoming.
With the Blackhearted O'Neil as his trophy, the queen would surely
hail him a hero. As would all of England.
* * *
"Let go of me. Let go." AnnaClaire pushed furiously against the hand
that had covered her mouth, stifling her cries. "Don't you see? I must
go to him. I must."
She shoved at the lad who barred her way. But despite his slight size,
Innis was amazingly strong.
"Nay, Englishwoman. Listen to me." He caught her arm and shoved
her roughly against the wall, then suddenly shielded her body with his
own as a line of soldiers trouped out, dragging Rory with them. "To
show yourself now is to die."
"I don't care." The tears were dangerously close to the surface, and
she wiped at them with the back of her hand. ' 'Did you see him, all
bloody and wounded? Innis, I must go to him."
"What you must do is save his life," he said on a hiss of fury. "And
you'll not do that by revealing yourself to these bastards. If you do,
they'll do worse than kill Rory O'Neil. They'll torment him by
torturing and killing you before his eyes. Now what do you think that
would do to him, my lady?"
"How would you know about such things?" The lad sounded so much
like Rory, she could scarcely believe her ears.
"I saw what they did to my mum. And the others." His voice was
tight, to keep the fear at bay. "It'll take more than the two of us to save
Rory. But at least for now he's still alive."
When the room emptied he caught her hand, dragging her out into the
darkness.
"Where are we going?"
"We must ride to Ballinarin. Our only hope now is to get the O'Neil to
amass an army."
AnnaClaire was grateful for the boy's cool head. For, though she
knew that he spoke the truth, her heart broke at the thought of riding
away and leaving Rory in the hands of his cruel captors. While she
went through the motions, pulling herself into the saddle, taking the
reins of her horse and following behind Innis, she couldn't get the
image of Rory, all bloody and wounded, out of her mind.
Chapter Seventeen
As they raced along the road leading to Ballinarin, AnnaClaire wasn't
certain which was pounding harder—the horses' hooves or her heart.
The image of Rory, bloody and broken, was indelibly imprinted on
her mind. It tore at her heart. Twisted inside her with a pain far worse
than any knife. She had to save him. Had to. She wouldn't let herself
think about the horrors he would have to endure. For to do so would
leave her shattered.
She glanced at the darkened cottages of the villagers as she rode past.
These simple men were farmers. Crofters. Shopkeepers. For so long,
they had been downtrodden by the whims of imperious men from
across the sea. Even if they were to rise up to defend one of their own,
what chance would they have against seasoned soldiers?
Oh Rory, she thought. Hold on. Please hold on. We'll find a way.
Following Innis' lead, she leaned low over the horse's head and urged
him into a run until they raced across the lawns and came to a stop in
the courtyard.
"Wake the household," she shouted to the startled housekeeper as she
and Innis burst through the door.
"But, my lady, they are still abed."
' 'I said wake them, Mistress Finn. Tell them to come at once to the
library." To avoid further protest AnnaClaire hurried away, with Innis
running alongside her to keep up with her frantic pace.
Gavin and Moira were the first to arrive. Though they were dressed, it
was obvious that they had done so hastily, and weren't at all happy
with being summoned like servants in their own home.
"You'd better have good reason for this, Englishwoman," Gavin
muttered as he drew a cloak around his shoulders and ushered his
wife closer to the fire.
Conor, his clothes disheveled, his hair flying, entered the room
directly behind Briana.
He glanced around. "Where's Rory?"
"He's the reason I woke you." AnnaClaire stopped her pacing and
glanced toward the doorway, where Friar Malone was just rushing in.
He was the only one who looked as though he'd been up for hours. No
doubt in prayer.
"Rory's been captured by English soldiers."
"And how would you know that?" Gavin demanded.
"Because I witnessed it."
The older man's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, woman?
Explain yourself."
"Rory planned to lead the soldiers away from Bal- linarin, in order to
save those he loved. But he fell into a trap. When he arrived at the
village tavern, the soldiers were expecting him."
Briana's eyes rounded. "Is he dead then?"
"Nay." AnnaClaire heard the collective sigh of relief from his family.
"But he was wounded. There were dozens of soldiers surrounding
him as they led him away."
"Where will they take him?" Gavin asked.
"Tilden said he would take him to England."
Conor caught her arm in a rough grasp. "Tilden? That bastard's here?"
"Aye. He was the bait they used to trap Rory."
His eyes were hot and fierce. "And how is it that you were able to
witness all this? How did you know what Rory was planning?"
"He came upon me as I was preparing to leave."
"Leave?" Gavin's tone was clipped. He took a step toward her.
"I was...planning to ride to the village and give myself up to the
soldiers."
The older man's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So that you could lead
them to Rory?"
"Nay. So that I could lead them away. But when Rory heard my plan,
he insisted that his was better. And safer. When I tried to stop him, he
bound my ha
nds and feet so I couldn't follow."
"Bound hand and foot and still you managed to escape?" It was clear
that Gavin O'Neil didn't believe her.
"'Tis true," Innis said softly. "I heard her struggling. When I freed the
lady and heard that she planned to go to the village alone, I insisted on
going with her."
"Two fools. Two bloody fools." Gavin began to pace furiously before
the fire. "I'll summon the chieftains of every village. Within days I'll
have an army assembled. We'll stop the bastards."
AnnaClaire shook her head. ' 'Even a day or two willbe too late. By
then Rory will be on his way to Fleet Prison."
"Damn them. Damn them all." Though Gavin was itching for a fight,
he could see the wisdom of her words. "Aye. The bastards will want
to parade their prize before the queen." He turned to his middle son.
"Conor, you'll go to England at once. Use whatever contacts you have
to prepare a defense of Rory at the Court of Elizabeth while I prepare
an army."
"Aye." Conor was relieved to have something tangible to do. It would
replace this terrible, wrenching fear that his brother was doomed.
As he started toward the door AnnaClaire followed. "I can be ready to
travel within the hour."
"And where do you think you're going?" Gavin's booming voice had
everyone turning.
"Why, to England. With Conor."
"Nay, lass. You'll stay here and honor Rory's wishes. This was what
he wanted. That you stay here at Ballinarin where you'd be safe. And
we'll damned well abide by his wishes."
"That may be what he wanted. But it isn't what he needs."
"And I suppose you claim to know what he needs?" Gavin's tone was
contemptuous.
"Aye. What he needs is someone who is comfortable a.t Court.
Someone familiar with the people who surround the queen. I can
introduce Conor to the men who have the queen's ear. Lest you forget,
one of them is my father. I intend to plead for his help."
Gavin pounded a fist on the mantel. "Your father is a bloody
Englishman. Do you really think he'll care about the plight of an Irish
outlaw?"
Her voice lowered with feeling. "He'll do it because I'll ask him. And
whatever else you think of him, he is a father who loves his only
child."
When the older man opened his mouth to protest, Moira touched a
hand to his arm. "She's right, Gavin. Rory needs all the help we can
give him. If AnnaClaire can help, we must accept it."
Feeling betrayed, he fixed his wife with a look of fury. But the anger
died when he saw the pain in her eyes. He closed a hand over hers,
then gave a grudging nod of his head. "All right, lass. You'll go with
Conor."
They were all surprised when Innis said, ' 'I want to be allowed to go,
too."
"To England?" Briana placed her hands on her hips. "You'd leave
Ballinarin?"
"Rory needs me. More, Lady AnnaClaire needs me." '
"The Englishwoman?" Briana's eyes widened. "And why would she
need the likes of you?"
"If I hadn't gone with her tonight, she'd have charged into the tavern
and flung herself into the thick of the battle."
Gavin studied the young woman with new respect. "A scrapper, is
she, lad?"
"Aye. When she saw Rory's blood, I thought she'd scratch out the
eyes of every soldier in the place." Innis turned away when he saw the
look AnnaClaire sent him. "I have to go with her, or she's bound to do
something foolish and dangerous."
Moira's voice was choked with tears. "Nay, Gavin. You mustn't let
him go. I couldn't bear it if I were to lose all my men this day."
The older man's shoulders sagged. The thought had occurred to him,
as well. Their family reunion had been so brief. And now they would
once again scatter far across the sea. If this was all he could do, at
least he would keep the youngest safe at home.
"You'll stay at Ballinarin, lad."
"It isn't fair. It's my fight as much as yours. I've lost my family. All of
them. I don't want to lose Rory and...the Englishwoman as well."
Gavin's voice grew stern, to cover his churning emotions. "You heard
me, boy. You'll stay here. We're your family now. And we'll keep you
safe."
At that Innis pushed his way past AnnaClaire and Conor and raced up
the stairs.
"Mistress Finn." Moira turned to the housekeeper, who stood just
beyond the doorway, holding the hem of her apron to her eyes.
Throughout their entire exchange she had taken in everything with
sighs and moans, endlessly crossing herself. "Take the lad some broth
later to cheer him. Now you'd best order a hearty meal before
AnnaClaire and Conor depart."
The housekeeper nodded before turning away.
Friar Malone watched and listened in silence. Hadn't he just been
wondering what sort of relationship would develop between the lad
and the Englishwoman? And now, in the space of mere hours, so
much had changed between them.
Perhaps it was the fact that AnnaClaire, like Innis, was an outsider,
brought to Ballinarin for protection. But the old priest thought it was
something much deeper. In his lifetime he'd seen every facet of
human nature. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say the lad had long
harbored guilt that he hadn't been strong enough to save his mother
from a horrible death. A death he'd been forced to witness, and relive
AnnaClaire he was being given another chance to protect a
gentlewoman from all manner of frightful things.
Or perhaps, with the Englishwoman's coloring, the lad was beginning
to see her as the mother he had lost.
Friar Malone shook his head. He hoped Innis would never be called
upon to prove his courage. For if he were, the lad had the
single-mindedness of one who would lay down his life before he
would admit defeat again.
"Safe journey," Moira whispered as she kissed AnnaClaire's cheek.
"God go with you both," Friar Malone intoned as he lifted his hand in
a blessing.
AnnaClaire and Conor pulled themselves onto their mounts and
prepared for the long ride to Dublin. The wagon bearing their trunks
and young Velia, who would serve as lady's maid to AnnaClaire, had
already gone ahead.
AnnaClaire looked around the courtyard. All the servants had
assembled, as well as many of the villagers, who had been summoned
from the fields.
"I don't see Innis," she said.
Briana let go of her brother's hand and dabbed at her eyes. "The last I
saw him, he was lying across his bed sulking."
"I wanted to tell him goodbye. And to thank him again for his help.
He was so brave. He truly did save me from leaping into the fray."
"I'll tell him." Briana's voice was little more than a whisper. "He isn't
the only one who is brave. I think what you're doing for my brother is
the bravest thing I've ever known. You love him, don't
you?"AnnaClaire nodded.
Weeping, the girl turned away.
Moira stepped cl
oser to press AnnaClaire's hand to her cheek. She
looked up, meeting the younger woman's eyes. "I'm grateful for what
you are doing."
"I have no choice. I have to be there, to do what I can."
"I know. I know now that you love Rory every bit as much as his
father and I love him." Her lips trembled, but to her credit she kept her
voice controlled. "You'll see that my son comes home to me?"
AnnaClaire nodded, suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak.
"And AnnaClaire," Moira said as she released her hand and took a
step back. "I want you to come back to us as well." She nudged her
husband. "Tell her."
The O'Neil cleared his throat. "Englishwoman..." He swallowed and
tried again, his voice softening. "AnnaClaire Thompson, our home is
yours. If you should..." He stopped, corrected himself. " When you
manage to free our son, we pray you will return with him to
Ballinarin."
"Thank you." It was all AnnaClaire could manage to whisper over the
lump in her throat.
"Come," Conor said as he turned his horse. "We've a long journey
ahead of us."
"Goodbye. God speed," came a chorus of voices as the horses' hooves
clattered across the courtyard.
AnnaClaire looked over her shoulder, hoping to see Innis waving at
one of the windows. But he was nowhere to be seen.
It was her last glimpse of Ballinarin. The sun was just burning off the
mist that shrouded the towers. She felt a sharp tug and knew that this
raw, savage land, like the man who loved it, had captured her heart.
AnnaClaire leaned on the rail of the ship and watched as the land
seemed to slip away. So green. With that strange light casting a soft
halo all about it. There was a softness, a gentleness, about the land
that defied description. Rolling meadows dotted with sheep. Ancient
stones keeping their silent sentinel on distant hillsides. The turrets of
castles and graceful manor houses rising up beside thatched-roof
cottages that looked as though they sprang up from the very earth.
And in the bay, fishermen in their rough boats, casting their nets, as
their fathers and grandfathers had before them.
Conor joined her at the rail. "Regretting your decision to leave?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't stay. Not knowing Rory is bound for
Fleet." She drew her cloak firmly around her shoulders as the wind
whipped up, filling the sails, sending the boat flying over the waves.